


Skittles Series: Yellow

by MercyBraavos



Series: Skittles Series [3]
Category: Psych
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 10:32:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8368945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercyBraavos/pseuds/MercyBraavos
Summary: Realizations. Declarations. A yellow Skittle.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PsychLassieFan4Ever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsychLassieFan4Ever/gifts).



> I'd intended to have this one get a little angsty, but then this happened.
> 
> Beta read and dedicated to my sister slasher, PsychLassieFan4Ever.

When Carlton gets home the only sign that the house is occupied is a warm glow from the area of the kitchen. He steps inside quietly, knowing it’s late; knowing there’s a good chance that Shawn fell asleep waiting for him. He and Guster had been at the station today picking up their check for solving the arson/murder cases (Lassiter flatly refused to use the word “furderer” because it _wasn’t_ a damn word.)

Before the duo left, Lassiter had quietly pressed a spare key into Shawn’s hand and said, “let yourself in, I’ll be there when I can.” Shawn’s answering smile made Lassiter want to lean down and kiss him, regardless of the fact that they were surrounded by co-workers. He’d settled instead for gently squeezing Shawn’s fingers before letting him head out with Guster (who, Lassiter noticed, had watched the exchange with a neutral expression on his face.)

Shawn won’t be upset that Lassiter is so late, he’ll just be happy to see him and that knowledge sends a pleasurable flood of warmth through him. It’s equal parts strange and freeing, being with someone who understands the unpredictability and instability of cop hours. Victoria pretended to understand, but her irritation had always been evident. Shawn is different. In more ways than one.

He moves to the kitchen and divests himself of his keys, wallet, suit jacket and badge, taking note of the yellow Skittle sitting next to the bowl of peanuts – well, peanuts and a gun. He makes a mental note to ask Shawn about the damn Skittles at some point.

Continuing down the hall, he removes his holster and stops to lock it in the accent table drawer outside the bedroom. When he steps into the bedroom he can’t help but smile. Shawn is asleep, stretched diagonally across the bed, stripped down to a white t-shirt and dark grey boxer briefs. His bare feet are under Lassiter’s pillow, his head resting on his folded arms, and there’s no point in denying it anymore.

Lassiter loves him.

It’s been building slowly for years but over the past few months; months spent learning what an attentive lover Shawn is, how affectionate he can be, how brilliant he is have thrown Lassiter over the edge and into a deep, almost desperate kind of love. Shawn loves him back, he thinks, but Shawn isn’t ready to hear it, much less _say_ it. So, Lassiter will wait. He’d wait for Shawn forever. He wants to be horrified with himself for the sheer sappiness of that, but fuck it, he’s happy.

And a little turned on.

OK, a lot turned on. There is, after all, a half-naked Shawn Spencer in his bed.

He approaches the bed slowly, toeing off his shoes and socks and sliding off his belt before leaving the removed items on the floor. Crawling carefully up the bed, he blankets Shawn’s body, keeping himself slightly propped up so he doesn’t crush his sleeping boyfriend.

 _Boyfriend_. Now there’s an interesting word. They were dating, that much had been agreed upon but an actual term for what they were to each other, the idea of exclusivity, hadn’t been truly discussed. He doesn’t think Shawn is sleeping with anyone else, and Lassiter certainly isn’t, but the part of him that is older and wiser than the last time he dated anyone craves the stability of the ‘Established Relationship.’ In a flash of utter ridiculousness he wonders for a moment if his class ring is still in a storage box in the garage.

 _What am I? Sixteen?_ His mind grouses.

 _Nope, just in love,_ his heart laments.

In love. With Shawn. Jesus.

Leaning down, he presses a soft kiss against the back of Shawn’s neck, marveling at how Shawn always smells so damn good. He nuzzles Shawn’s cheek and leaves a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses along his stubbled jawline until Shawn’s breathing shifts and the corner of his mouth curves into a smile. His eyes stay closed, but he lifts his head a bit, and Lassiter briefly meets Shawn’s lips with his own before pulling back up to his ear.

“Hey,” he whispers. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Shawn peers at him through his lashes. “Yes, you did,” he says with a throaty chuckle.

“Mmmm,” Lassiter hums, tugging Shawn’s t-shirt up and off before kissing his way down his lover’s back, “maybe a little.”

Shawn moans at the attention, rolling his body slowly while Lassiter’s mouth continues its exploration of Shawn’s exposed, warm skin. “Lassie,” Shawn breathes, “feels so good…”

Lassiter slides back up and captures Shawn’s lips, kissing him soft and slow and sweet until Shawn turns over in his arms and pulls Lassiter flush against him. Lassiter can feel Shawn’s hardness grinding against his own. Shawn’s hands move to the buttons of his shirt and Lassiter lifts up a little so Shawn can rid him of the dress shirt and tug his undershirt over his head.

They stay that way for a while, lazily rutting against each other, trading kisses and smiles. Lassiter can feel Shawn’s knees come up before his legs wrap around him, ankles locking, pressing them together like Shawn’s afraid Lassiter will go somewhere.

That idea almost makes him laugh. Where would Lassiter go? He doesn’t want anyone else; doesn’t need anyone else. Not ever. How surreal that of all people, Shawn Spencer turns out to be the love of his life.

Christ, what is _wrong_ with him tonight?

Betrayed by his own inner thoughts, Lassiter pulls back a moment and blinks down at Shawn in shock as though Shawn’s somehow put the idea in his head.

“What is it?” Shawn asks hazily, leaning up to kiss him again.

“I – I think I need to tell you something.”

Shawn lets his head fall back on the bed and is looking up at him, wary. “OK,” he says calmly.

Lassiter licks his lips, unsure as to why he’s suddenly nervous. “I, um… are you… seeing anyone else?” He watches Shawn’s reaction carefully. Sees him bite his lip, wanting to make a joke. Sees him think better of it. Sees his eyes crinkle as he smiles affectionately.

“No, Lassie. I’m not.” His voice is soft and the hand that comes up to stroke across Lassiter’s cheek is even softer. “Are you?” he asks, uncertainly bleeding through his casual tone.

“No,” Lassiter answers immediately, “and I don’t want to and… I don’t want _you_ to either.” Oh, well that sounded fantastic. “I mean, obviously you’re an adult and you’re your own person and I don’t want to take away your freedom or make you feel trapped. I just wanted to be clear about where I thought we were heading because communication with a partner has never been my forte and…” Lassiter is well aware that he is babbling like an idiot, but if he can just get this last little bit out… “I don’t want to lose you.” _Provided, of course, that I actually_ have _you._

When he finally shuts the hell up, Shawn is grinning at him.

“Yeah, Lassie, you have me.”

 _Shit_. Lassiter chuckles uncomfortably. “Didn’t realize I said that out loud.”

Shawn leans up and kisses him again. “You didn’t.” Another kiss. “I just knew what you were thinking.”

This time, Lassiter leans down to kiss him, trailing his mouth around Shawn’s face, noses bumping lightly, stubble catching. “So,” he whispers in Shawn’s ear, feeling the other man shiver under him, “just you and me. No one else?”

“Why, Detective Lassiter,” Shawn gasps, voice lilting in faux shock, “are you asking me to go steady?”

Here, Lassiter could do a great many things. He could roll his eyes or scowl. He could laugh it off as another of Shawn’s jokes. He could ignore the question completely, fuck Shawn into the mattress and make him forget every other sexual partner he’s ever had.

But, he doesn’t do any of those things.

Instead, he kisses Shawn’s lips, his cheeks, his chin and his forehead and his eyelids. He nibbles at Shawn’s ears, tracing the shell with his tongue before sucking a bruise into the tender skin below Shawn’s pulse point. When he pulls back, Shawn is panting, his eyes lust-blown and frantic.

“Yes,” he says simply.

Shawn blinks at him for a moment until Lassiter’s declaration clicks and then Shawn is _on_ him. Kissing him hard, pushing him up and back while yanking at the button on his slacks. Lassiter reaches down to help and together they manage to wiggle him out of his pants and boxers.

Shawn hops off the bed and cuts off Lassiter’s startled protest. “Back,” he waves, “against the – the thing.”

Lassiter glances behind him, amused that Shawn is so far-gone he’s apparently forgotten half the English language. He scoots back, situating himself comfortably against the headboard and crosses his arms in a spectacularly unsuccessful effort at looking nonchalant.

Shawn, meanwhile, is pawing through his bedside table drawer, “you added another one,” he says before closing it and dropping the lube and condom he was looking for onto the bed. He shimmies out of his underwear before climbing back up and straddling Lassiter’s lap.

Lassiter nods at him, knowing he’s referring to the single-shot Remington Derringer hidden in the drawer’s false bottom. Shawn is rocking gently in his lap while Lassiter’s hands run up and down his sides.

“I found the other eight earlier,” Shawn explains needlessly. Lassiter wouldn’t have expected anything else.

“I don’t usually keep a gun in my bedroom, but since I don’t sleep alone all the time anymore it seemed… practical.”

Shawn, who had been licking and biting his way down Lassiter’s throat looks up at him and chuckles breathlessly, “What, afraid I might try to smother you in your sleep?” Lassiter just stares at him, one eyebrow arched, and Shawn gets it. “Oh. _Oh…_ ” he breathes, “you bought that for me. To protect me, just in case, didn’t you?”

Hearing it out loud makes Lassiter blush and look away, but embarrassment fades when Shawn sucks an earlobe into his mouth and whispers, “Thanks, Lass.”

Shawn rocks slowly in his lap again and Lassiter winds his arms around him, holding them tight together, his face buried against Shawn’s neck. After a moment of nothing but delicious friction, Shawn tilts Lassiter’s head up and kisses him, licking between his lips and mapping the inside of Lassiter’s mouth with his tongue. Their hips rock faster, mouths sliding together almost frantically until Shawn breaks away, gasping, his breath hot against Lassiter’s ear.

“I want you in me,” he whispers and Lassiter feels the bolt of white hot lust down to the tips of his toes.

“I want to be in you,” he breathes back, crushing Shawn’s mouth back to his. He glances to the side, locates and grabs the lube before slicking his fingers.

Shawn rises up on his knees, enough for Lassiter to slip his hand down. He opens Shawn gently, one finger at a time until Shawn is writhing against him. His head is thrown back and Lassiter leans forward, licking a wet stripe across Shawn’s exposed throat. Shawn dips his head and catches Lassiter’s mouth, biting at his bottom lip before moaning loudly as Lassiter’s fingers drag across his prostate.

“Fuck, Lassie, _fuck_ ,” he gasps, rocking his hips faster, fucking himself on Lassiter’s hand. “Please fuck me, Lassie… please…”

Lassiter grabs the condom and hands it to Shawn who rips it open and rolls it slowly, so _fucking_ slowly, onto Lassiter’s straining erection. Once the latex is in place, Lassiter slides his fingers out of Shawn, smiling at the whimper the other man lets out and grabs the lube again to slick up his cock.

Shawn is shifting closer and lifting up and Lassiter grabs his hips to help ease him down, but Shawn stops short and covers Lassiter’s hands with his own. He’s looking down at Lassiter intently, something undefinable shifting in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to tell _you_ something,” Shawn says quietly, “and I want to do it now so it’s not mistaken for some chick-flick afterglow moment.”

Lassiter thinks he knows what’s coming, but keeps his mouth shut, desperate not to break the mood or – god forbid – scare Shawn into backing out. So, instead of speaking he simply nods and waits. Shawn is chewing on his lower lip, looking nervous. Lassiter is still determined to stay silent, but he rubs gentle circles into Shawn’s hipbones, hoping the gesture soothes him a bit. Shawn’s eyes slip closed and he reaches up and lays trembling hands on Lassiter’s chest.

A whispered “fuck” drops from Shawn’s lips before he opens his eyes and locks them with Lassiter’s. “I love you,” he says, firmly and clearly almost like he’s daring Lassiter to argue with him.

Lassiter is _not_ going to argue.

“I love you,” he says again, “and I think you love me too, but I know it’s too soon and I don’t expect you to say it back, I just… fuck, Lassie, I love you and whatever happens with us or anything else you should know that someone loves you. That _I_ love you.”

Lassiter is dimly aware that he should be speaking at this point, whispering ‘I love you’ back a thousand times, but all his focus is on Shawn’s confession. Not just the part where he loves Lassiter, but that he wants Lassiter to _know_ he’s loved. Shawn knows his history, knows his emotional detachment stems from never having been truly, openly loved before. It makes Shawn’s words resonate so deeply that if Lassiter hadn’t already fallen for Shawn, he’d be falling now – hard and fast.

He wants to say it back, needs to say it back, but everything is fucking overwhelming and actually speaking is so far out of the range of possibility that all he can do is lean up, grab Shawn and kiss him furiously. He plunders Shawn’s mouth, chasing the other man’s tongue and wrapping one arm around Shawn’s waist, guides him down, down, down until Lassiter is fully inside him.

Lassiter’s free hand locks around Shawn’s throat, forcing his head to the side so Lassiter can suck a mark onto his neck. Shawn is rolling his hips, breathing hard and moaning so loudly that Lassiter wonders if they can hear him next door. A fierce, territorial part of him hopes they can, hopes they saw Shawn enter his house, hopes they’re fucking jealous that Shawn belongs to _him_.

The tight, hot coil of impending orgasm is building low in his belly and he needs Shawn to come first but doesn’t want to release his hold on Shawn’s hip and throat. “Touch yourself, Shawn,” he growls.

Whimpering, Shawn works a hand between them, stroking himself while Lassiter fucks up into him, matching him thrust for thrust. When Shawn’s rhythm starts to falter, Lassiter knows he’s almost there.

“Come on, Shawn,” he whispers, one hand snaking around to the back of Shawn’s head, pressing their mouths together. “You’re almost there, come on.” Shawn’s hips are rocking frantically now and Lassiter just holds him tighter.

“So close, Lassie,” Shawn rasps out, his voice utterly wrecked. “Come with me,” he begs, “please…”

Lassiter can’t say ‘no’ to that. Not even if he wanted to. He nods against Shawn’s cheek, knowing he can feel it and breathes into his ear, “I’ve got you, Shawn. I love you and I’ve got you. Now, come for me.” He leans back and Shawn is gazing at him, lust-blow eyes wide. “I love you,” Lassiter says again and then exhales sharply as Shawn clenches around him, coming between them hot and messy. Lassiter follows him over the cliff, stifling his own cries by pulling Shawn’s mouth back to his.

They come down slowly, covered in sweat and breathing heavily.

“I meant that, you know,” Lassiter manages to say eventually. “Afterglow aside.”

Shawn chuckles and bumps his forehead gently into Lassiter’s. “More of a during-glow, wasn’t it?” he jokes before kissing him lightly on the lips. “But I know you meant it.”

They look at each other, grinning like fools until Shawn stands up, wincing.

“You OK?”

“I did all the work,” Shawn laughs, “my legs are gonna feel that in the morning.”

“A shower might help,” Lassiter reasons.

Shawn hums his agreement. “You should totally join me. Water conservation and all,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows and sauntering towards the bathroom.

Later, back in Lassiter’s bed, showered and lying on fresh sheets Lassiter remembers something. “Shawn,” he whispers, unsure if the other man is asleep yet.

“Hmm?”

“What’s the deal with the Skittles?”

And wrapped around him, Shawn just laughs.


End file.
